


From the Sky

by ReminiscentLullaby



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Romance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReminiscentLullaby/pseuds/ReminiscentLullaby
Summary: The rain draws him out. It has the power to wash away the marks of the past.orGabriel feels like a new man.
Relationships: Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42
Collections: GabeNath Book Club and Art Club Server





	From the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is? Maybe my first successful attempt at fluff? Possibly?

When earlier in the day, Gabriel had glanced out of the window in his bedroom to momentarily look over the rose garden in full bloom under the sharply angled morning light, his eyes had drifted from the well-kept vegetation at the back corner of the property up to the stretch of azure making up most of the sky, particularly to observe where such perfect blue ended to fade out of color and into the pale bases of clouds. They'd been like mountains on the horizon. Stretching higher and higher to glow a heavenly white at their tremendous peaks, Gabriel was suddenly captivated by these suspended explosions of ice and could find no explanation for it as he moved through the rest of the morning; as those clouds drifted nearer and nearer, white turning silver turning gray and flooding the sky; as he witnessed the gradual dimming of the mansion while the sun was swallowed. Had it been the impression of something grand and sublime closing in all around him, or the sudden awareness of the motion of the planet, there was a tug at his spirit, a sense of movement deeper than his bones, a shift in direction of something seeking to be made whole or right.

The strength of this pull led him to the mansion's back doors when the rain came. He watched the splatter of the drops against the stone steps down to the path, upon the rich green leaves, before he unlocked the door and stepped out. And between then and now, over the course of a few moments he doesn't remember, he had decided the pelt of rain against his clothes and hair and face didn't bother him – quite the opposite; he had traveled down the stairs to the ground, walked along the path towards the back garden where the red roses bled their vibrant color into the gray-green world, and before the rainfall had managed to make the bed of grass beside them too soft and damp for comfort, he'd lain himself down, removed his glasses, closed his eyes. He doesn't know why.

There is something about the rain. In constant motion it cascades from sky to earth and back again, into open mouths and the roots of plants to perpetuate color and life. Petals agape, leaves dripping beneath the patter of the fall, dust and heat and dead things being washed away. Gabriel sighs and takes the rain against his face, lets it pool in his palms. If he lays here long enough, eventually the sun will inhale it all back into the clouds and carry it somewhere new with the wind. And there will be pieces of him drifting somewhere miles away, pieces of him sinking into the dirt, just the thinnest layer of himself ebbing elsewhere.

It feels good. It feels like something he has been waiting for. A primal urge submerged in the depths of his spirit finally coming up for air, so long entombed beneath layers and layers of heavy stone and twisted tangled brush, all the things that crush, disorder, and contort a life beyond its purest, brightest existence. Bit by bit, some of it having been heaved away by himself with just enough strength to move it, he feels the rest being gently washed off into the grass.

For a while, he has been searching for peace, so elusive a sentiment, though it never moves. In a thousand ways he tried to force it out of the world, all hope pinned on a perfect power too perfect to let anything truly change. A power to close a wound and open another in just as fatal a place. All along, Gabriel had fought a war just to continue hurting, a war that couldn't save him, a war that couldn't return any more than it could take away. It could not give him peace he did not already have.

Life, he's learned, cannot be restored, only renewed. New beginnings sprout in the shadows of stories that have already ended. As the rain soaks into his clothes, into his hair, Gabriel senses the weight of things dead and gone running off his body. Their impressions remain, having altered the shape of his soul, carved scars into his still beating heart, but their substance is gradually, smoothly expelled. He feels lighter. He feels like himself.

From a distance he hears the call of his name and a door swinging shut, sounds muffled by the wind and the rain. Faintly, the earth projects movement across its surface, rhythmic steps, quick at first and then slowing down. Gabriel's eyes open just slightly to peer up into a vast gray sky, textured like sheets of silver cotton layered over each other. And then a figure appears above him. She looks down with wide-eyed concern, and Gabriel realizes at once how he must appear found motionless in the grass under a steady rain.

She kneels down beside him. "Are you okay? What on earth are you doing?"

"Nathalie, I'm alright," he murmurs.

"So, why are you just lying out here?" she asks incredulously. She brushes her fingers through his damp gray hair, and he shuts his eyes again for a sigh.

"I felt drawn out."

He runs his hand tenderly over her knee.

"I needed this."

"You needed to be drenched in the rain? I worried you could be dead when I saw you," she mutters.

"I'm sorry. I thought this would be nice."

After a pause, she asks him, "Is it nice?"

"Amazing."

With a low chuckle, she takes his hand. "You continue to surprise me every day."

"The rain is cleansing, Nathalie."

"I can imagine." She leans over him, pressing a kiss to his lips. Gabriel, in a surge of mischief, kisses her back and pulls her down onto the ground beside him. She yelps, and when Gabriel opens his eyes, he looks into a pair of amused and fiery blue eyes.

"You fool," she growls.

"Isn't it lovely?" Gabriel trails his fingers down her cheek. Their noses nearly touch.

"It's something."

"I love you, you know," he tells her.

At this, Nathalie blinks. The playful smile on her soft pink lips slowly falls.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing, I…" She takes his hand, presses his palm to her skin.

"I've said it before."

"I know." With a kiss to his inner wrist, she curls in slightly, setting her forehead against his own. "I've never heard you say it out of blue like that. I've never heard you say it so…" her breath is sweet like fruit, "matter-of-factly."

"It's the truest fact I know," he whispers.

Her smile returns. She shuts her eyes. "I love you too."

They remain in the grass for a few minutes longer, until the fall of the rain hardens against their skin. Hand in hand, they walk inside, removing their muddy shoes, their blazers and jackets. They shower and change their clothes and when they are both clean and dry, Gabriel approaches Nathalie, who is already arranging their soiled clothes to be taken to dry-cleaning, and envelops her in an embrace.

They stand there silently, warm and brand-new, brimming with a love that feels as old as the sky.


End file.
